


in contrast to the empty house

by nisakomi



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Future Fic, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-04 14:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18345350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nisakomi/pseuds/nisakomi
Summary: More than ten years after their debut, SEVENTEEN is (unofficially) inactive. Members cycle through military service, Jihoon continues making music, Soonyoung embarks on a solo world tour, Mingyu does something or another related to film and fashion.And Wonwoo? Wonwoo drifts, unmoored, through completing post-secondary education. At least until a newspaper, a chat in a cafe, and a chance bathroom encounter set him up for long-awaited closure.





	in contrast to the empty house

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [kpopolymfics2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2019) collection. 



> This fic was written for K-Pop Olymfics 2019 as part of Team Canon/AR/Future 2. Olymfics is a challenge in which participants write fics based on prompt sets and compete against other teams of writers, organized by genre. Competition winners are chosen by the readers, so please rate this fic using [this survey](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSeLaLwUaZCDoD92CC1LaTw0V8ZhCpu0FnVwdEfQ7r6uenJK6A/viewform)!
> 
>  **Prompt:**  
>  **WJSN – "Save Me, Save You"**  
> [lyrics](https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2018/09/cosmic-girls-wjsn-ujusonyeo-save-save-butaghae) **|** [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2wOBbRu3OOc) **|** [supplementary](https://www.flickr.com/photos/beansshots/11503096704/) \- [prompts](https://66.media.tumblr.com/9e7ea4af8b58779af3a305b386aa81fc/tumblr_p2mf4xIINk1v2useeo1_640.gif)
> 
> You can find the other three fics for this prompt, and all other prompts, in [the collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/kpopolymfics2019/requests).
> 
>  **Warning** :  
> This is **NOT** a getting together fic.

‘ _It pays to remember, dear Cancer, that words linger in our minds like scars linger on our bodies_.’

Mingyu returns from the restroom, his annoyingly obvious height crowding into Wonwoo’s peripheral vision and giving him due warning. Wonwoo quickly folds up the _New York Times_ he’d been holding and reaches for the reusable cup sitting on the counter, aiming for nonchalant as he takes a sip of his piping hot coffee and burns his tongue.

“Huh. Didn’t think you were the horoscope-reading type. And I’ve known you for twenty years,” Mingyu says. He slides into the seat beside Wonwoo's and lowers his shades to look at him.

“It hasn’t been that long yet,” Wonwoo replies quickly, slapping the newspaper back into Mingyu’s hands. “And I wasn’t reading the horoscopes, I was scanning the crossword.”

The blatant lie is more comfortable than letting Mingyu think he’s right. In truth the horoscope section is probably the only part other than the comics that fits within Wonwoo’s limited English comprehension abilities.

“I think it’s been close enough.” Mingyu shrugs. He tips the newspaper back into Wonwoo’s hands. “Keep it. I barely see actual printed newspapers anymore, but I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“Where did you even get it?” Wonwoo mutters instead of agreeing.

“Air stewardess was handing them out on the flight from New York. All the old geezers were pulling out reading glasses, so I figured I’d take a copy too.”

“You read it?”

Mingyu grins. “Nope! But had a nice chat with a lady about one of the photos from the fashion week spread. She was pretty impressed when I told her I walked in two shows, but not that surprised. Of course, right?”

Wonwoo turns his head. “Insufferable. I can’t believe you didn’t stay in the States longer to spend more time on your feckless flirting. Is there anywhere you _don’t_ socialize?”

“Just come with me to one of the parties I keep inviting you to. Any of the parties I keep inviting you to,” Mingyu says, tugging on Wonwoo’s elbow. “You’ll have fun and then you’ll get it.”

Wonwoo pulls his arm away. “Go away.”

“Hmph…" Mingyu gives his head a shake. Were you always this tight-assed?”

Wonwoo gives him a look, which is just enough time for Mingyu to answer his own question.

“Yeah. Yeah, you were. Anyway, I had to come back. Myungho and I have to talk shop before we head to Europe and there’s not a lot of time. It’s not like New York is going anywhere while I’m gone.”

“Mm.”

“Wanna come with me next time I go? I’m thinking sometime in fall, when the leaves start changing but it hasn’t gotten too cold yet…Oh!”

“What? I’m not going on a vacation with you, Mingyu.”

“No, never mind about New York. I forgot the whole thing happened, but I’d mentioned that I was going to see you today and Myungho said you should come for dinner with us later. It’s been a while since you guys have seen each other, right?”

Wonwoo exhales slowly. “Yeah,” he says, finally conceding. “I’ve got shit to do though.”

“Like I said, we have a ton of work too, y’know? It’s just dinner and drinks and you’ll be perky and in good working condition for tomorrow morning. Or, well, as perky as you ever get, I guess.”

 

 

*

 

 

Truth be told, Wonwoo doesn’t have much to do. Since filming his last brief variety guest appearance, his main tasks have alternated between doing his university homework and practicing guitar after picking it up again for the first time in at least a decade. Most of the time, however, he sits on the couch at home playing video games, eating take out, and taking long naps. It’s quiet, mostly pleasant, and he doesn’t have to move around much. He also doesn’t interact with other people all that often.

Though he snipes at Mingyu as much as he can over coffee, by about an hour in, he’s settled into an easy conversation that carries from something as simple as Mingyu stressing over a pair of jeans. It seems like the socialization ball has been set into motion, and while Wonwoo is usually perfectly content to let it rest, right now the momentum means it’s hard to stop.

What happens is that they chat, Mingyu remembers he wants to look for something but their conversation isn’t quite over, and then they continue chatting while wandering around in outrageously expensive boutiques where the prices of items aren’t openly displayed. Later, Mingyu sees the time, yanks Wonwoo into the cab he hails from his phone while Wonwoo’s still rather spiritedly discussing the pros and cons of several VR systems he’s familiar with. When they arrive in front of the restaurant for which Mingyu is nearly twenty minutes late to his reservation, he says to Wonwoo, “Well you’re here now so you might as well come in and you can continue telling me about your tech stuff, you nerd.”

So that’s how Wonwoo gets roped into dinner.

If Mingyu had invited Wonwoo to dinner with Minghao a week from now, or even tomorrow, there was a significant chance Wonwoo would have found some way to flake out. All of the lead up time would have been spent lingering on a reluctance he couldn’t parse, even though now that he was only a hallway or two away from sitting at a table with an old bandmate, he couldn’t come up with any reason why he wouldn’t want to eat with them. It’s some sort of construct in his head whenever Wonwoo let his brain do too much thinking that blocked basic functioning.

Anyway, he’s here now, and that’s that. Wonwoo messages Jihoon while trailing behind Mingyu, partially to apprise him of his unexpected situation, but mostly to apologize for having to miss their scheduled gaming time.

He looks up just in time to not walk face first into Mingyu’s back. Mingyu steps to his left to take a seat, and starts to say something. He’s completely ignored and interrupted by Minghao spotting Wonwoo and chiming in with a chipper, “Oh! Hyung, I’m glad you made it!”

Wonwoo nods, but he isn’t really looking at Minghao.

He’s looking at the person sitting beside Minghao, eyes on his phone but physically pulling away from it, angled in that way when someone is trying to disengage from their screen but is still obviously trying to finish something. There’s a part of Wonwoo’s brain that inwardly snarks out, _Look who uses his phone only when it’s convenient for him_. Outwardly, he mutters some reply that is satisfactory enough for Minghao to carry on about how it’s been a long time since they last saw each other.

Minghao must be right. Wonwoo can’t remember clearly when that last time was, which must mean it has been a long time. But saying “it’s been a while” is just one of those things people have to do when they used to see each other something like 20 hours a day every day, and then suddenly don’t see each other for a few years. Wonwoo will acknowledge that it’s better to see Minghao than not, but there’s little more to it.

Whereas, when he looks to Minghao’s left…

It’s just, well, he feels a little zapped. A prickling sensation that’s just strong enough to be annoying. He can sense himself staring. An outside observer who didn’t know him well might have interpreted as a glare, but said person finally looks up from his phone, sees Wonwoo’s expression, and bursts out into a dramatic ear-to-ear grin.

“Wonwoo!”

Somehow the sound of his name or the smile, some combination maybe, disrupts Wonwoo's frustration into something that’s more akin to unease.

“Jun-ah,” he replies, voice sounding quiet and flat to his own ears. He’s still clutching the newspaper Mingyu ‘gifted’ him hours ago, has been carrying it the whole day. Actually he’d forgotten about it until now, and his fingers grip tightly enough into the pages that they crinkle under his nails. Wonwoo sets it down on the edge of the chair with some determination, giving himself an excuse to look down and away from the shine in Junhui’s eyes.

“I’ve missed you!” Junhui says with some excitement, and Wonwoo hasn’t managed to wrap his tongue around a comeback (something along the lines of _Well you have a weird way of showing it_ ) before Junhui’s already barrelling on to ask, “How are you? What have you been doing lately?”

And then Wonwoo doesn’t get to reply again, because Mingyu’s telling everyone, “Being a nerd, as always. Do you know how long he spent talking to me about his, like, three different new gaming systems? It was half an hour straight, I swear, I didn’t even ask him anything and he just kept coming up with new stuff to keep going on and on.”

Wonwoo, for the first time that day, truly glares. There’s no room to hold onto his discontent with Wen Junhui when Kim Mingyu is so clearly telling tall tales. First of all, Mingyu is not the kind of person who’s patient enough to listen to someone else talk about something that doesn’t interest him for longer than half a sentence. If he’d really been bothered by the subject, he’d have interrupted, without any care, immediately. Second, it would have been impossible for Wonwoo to talk for half an hour straight in the first place, much less with them constantly stopping to talk with shop clerks or about purchases. The last thing, and truly the most important part, was that Mingyu had been the one who asked Wonwoo about choosing one for himself. He was the one who wanted that information in the first place! Wonwoo wouldn’t have brought it up if Mingyu hadn’t mentioned it and requested his advice.

For whatever reason, this mostly fabricated story inspires Minghao to share about Junhui’s long-winded ramblings on their car ride over, and that launches into a discussion of times in the past when Junhui was too caught up either talking about something or staring at his phone to notice his surroundings and either got lost, ran into someone, or missed his stop.

The chance for Wonwoo to ask his pressing question evaporates, even though the thought never leaves the forefront of his mind. They order, they reminisce, they eat, they chat, they drink, they blather some more. He learns way more about Mingyu and Minghao's fashion line than he ever cared to know. Still, Wonwoo never stops wondering: why is Junhui here? And the sub-questions that either feed into or stem from it, like where had Junhui been? What had he been up to? If he really missed Wonwoo, why hadn’t he ever bothered to message or call?

 

 

*

 

 

“Did you change your cologne?”

Junhui is inebriated. It’s more noticeable in the bathroom, which is slightly brighter than the restaurant proper, with its dim ambient lighting. His cheeks are tinged pink, he’s got this haze about him like he can’t quite fully open his eyes. That’s not the best way to describe it on Junhui though, it’s more like those eyes are often open wide and inquisitive, so anything less just seems closed by comparison.

“Didn’t you already use the restroom after we ordered?” Wonwoo asks while extending his hands under the taps to rinse off any soap, not really answering Junhui’s question. He doesn’t look at him when he replies.

“Yeah,” Junhui says, then pauses before continuing, “I drank a lot of water.”

Some things really don’t change, however many years be damned.

“Anyway, your cologne is different, right?”

Wonwoo angles his head down and sniffs lightly. He keeps his gaze averted from Junhui, the real one, or the reflected version in the mirror. For some reason, seeing Junhui’s blushing face in a bathroom is filling Wonwoo with a nauseating sense deja vu. “Is it too noticeable? Did I put too much on?”

“No. It smells nice, actually,” Junhui articulates this with some vigor. “But you smell different. From before.”

“Oh.” Wonwoo struggles to come up with the right reply beyond an acknowledgement. He doesn’t really know what Junhui’s thinking. Should he be surprised he noticed? Remembered? Should he not be surprised at all?

“Are you going to finish washing your hands? You should do that. I came to the bathroom...right! I needed to use the bathroom.” Junhui hums. “Maybe afterward you can tell me the full story that Mingyu mentioned.”

Wonwoo presses his lips together and looks down steadily at his hands as he reaches toward the dryer. The several beers he’s had hasn’t affected him as much, not that Junhui is particularly drunk. Giddy, maybe. But something about his comment rubs Wonwoo the wrong way, it’s just he’s not sure Junhui’s in the right state for him to be able to bring it up.

“Oh!” Junhui’s eyes widen. “By the way, do you have my current number? I’m back on a Chinese network since I’m not usually in Korea anymore. Well, I’m here now, but we’re just filming here for a few days, and then I’m returning to China again.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo says. He finally looks up, battling down a whirlpool cycling through his insides. “What’s your number?”

 

 

*

 

 

The blast of warm water over Wonwoo’s head washes away some of the sleepiness from his body. He’d meant to wake up early and get some work done for his courses before heading to his brother’s for lunch with his favorite (and only) niece, but by the time he snorted himself awake, it was nearly 11 and there was a taste of alcohol not quite brushed away still fouling the inside of his mouth.

It’s not new. As in, the not getting things done isn't new. Wonwoo often blocks off days of a week intending to study, only to end up spending five hours straight online with Jihoon or accidentally taking a four hour nap, or getting distracted reading something and research the history and background behind it for a whole afternoon.

There’s less holding him responsible when it’s just himself and his own deadlines. Meanwhile, Hyeyeon would leave him a dozen angry voice recordings if he missed bringing over a new storybook, and needs must.

Something about the way time flows is different now from when he was younger. In the past, it felt like there always was so much to do and never enough time to do anything. Later. Later, he would go to Paris and stare out from the top of the Eiffel tower. Later, he would visit Florida and watch a space shuttle launch. Later, he would find an isolated restaurant in Yunnan and drink pu’er tea.

Now that he’s (and this is still kind of weird to consider) over thirty, Wonwoo thinks time has essentially stopped for him, while the world rushes around him. Every time he sees Hyeyeon she’s grown, and learned more, and has a different favorite animal or color from the last time he’s seen her. Every time he sees one of his friends, they’ve moved on to a different project, or even worked on several projects since their last conversation. It’s sort of like when he came out of the army, and a whole two years had passed by for the world around him, but barely anything had happened for him in those 21 months. He’d gotten broader, maybe, a little firmer, scruffier. But now that feeling of being passed by is daily, and it’s even more painful catching up with others given that he’s connected to the outside world.

How could so much have happened? Like Junhui moving countries, which isn’t actually a new fact to Wonwoo, but apparently something he never quite processed.

Wonwoo still can’t remember the last time he saw Minghao. He thinks he remembers the last time he and Junhui interacted, though. It was before he reported for basic, and Junhui had left him a quiet, short voice recording, telling him to stay healthy and happy. 

With Minghao, well, their communication had lessened greatly over time. Minghao frequently missed out on events, off busy with this or that schedule, and he and Wonwoo didn’t exactly hang out or chat tons on their time off. But the truth was, with Junhui, especially close to the end (it’s not really over, but Wonwoo thinks most of them thought that the oldest members enlisting was sort of the beginning of the end), they hadn’t been talking all that much either.

He doesn’t know how to describe it. It was true that sometimes Junhui would spot him when doing backstage videos and holler his name giddily. And sometimes they’d go for food together and Wonwoo’s mother would send snacks that Junhui felt embarrassed for admitting to liking. But…

Wonwoo wonders if it’s possible to have a missed connection with someone you still saw daily. Because that’s what it had felt like - two people who walked past each other on their separate ways to catch different flights that departed for very different destinations. Only they kept slipping past each other at airports, over and over again, never once getting on the same plane, not even to return home.

Which, as it turned out, was a completely different country for Junhui now.

Wonwoo runs his hands through his hair, squeezing out the last of the water and making sure he's rinsed out all the shampoo.

_I’m thinking about Junhui in the shower again…_

There is a way in which Wonwoo considers Junhui to be someone he had once felt reasonably close to, and then very distant from, and Wonwoo only has guesses at what caused the rift to form.

After standing in the shower pondering the past for so long, it’s no wonder that when he steps out of his bathroom, hair still damp, his AI assistant informs him it’s already half past the hour. He has to lift up a corner of the rolled up New York Times to find the watch he’d slipped off last night and slide it on. In the rush, the metal clasp catches on the hairs on his wrist. When he looks down, stray droplets of water have smudged the ink on the newsprint, but the horoscope section remains in tact.

‘ _Fear not, vivacious Gemini! Although the next few days hold interesting surprises, you are singularly adapted to deal with the unexpected_.’

 

 

*

 

 

“You’re late,” Bohyeok says grumpily.

“Traffic,” Wonwoo waves him off, breezing in as if it’s his own home.

Jooyeon’s sitting at the dining table with her glasses slipped down her nose, peering at her tablet with her eyebrows knitted together. On the table in front of her lies two phones and a laptop, the kind where you can swivel the screen around to use as a tablet as well.

“You’re late,” Hyeyeon says from behind the sofa, her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail.

“Manners,” Jooyeon calls sharply.

“Uncle,” Hyeyeon addresses politely. Then she’s running toward Wonwoo, clamoring for her book.

“Well, you know how it is. Hard to find parking for unicorns around here.”

“ _Stop_ it,” Hyeyeon giggles. She tugs the gift from Wonwoo’s fingers, though he’s not resisting very much.

“You can read after lunch,” Bohyeok says, “but I’m putting food on the table and your mother isn’t going to blame me if soup splatters onto her work.”

“Jeez, wait just two minutes, will you?”

Bohyeok waits just long enough to take off his apron.

Wonwoo’s brother is not a great cook. His food is kind of, well, not bland necessarily, but lacking in depth of flavor or something, missing tricks that no grandmother has ever passed onto him. They could eat some sort of instant nutrition or restaurant fare, but their family has been trying to ‘go healthy’ for the past few years, and Jooyeon can’t cook at all, so Bohyeok’s home cooking it is.

Wonwoo doesn’t mind. He’s a pretty terrible cook himself, and mostly these weekend lunches with his brother’s family serve to ground him a little. Annoyingly, of late Bohyeok’s taken to parenting him during their get togethers. Ever since he became a father, his whole demeanor has changed. Having beers until he was too drunk to remember how he got home rapidly turned into, “Hyung, when was the last time you exercised?” and “Do you know what your cholesterol levels are?”

Two years older though he may be, Wonwoo isn’t at that stage of life. He doesn’t think he’s old, doesn’t have an impetus to settle down, doesn’t want to stop drinking too much carbonated beverage, eating too much fried chicken, spending too much time playing video games. Being an idol must have affected this. It wasn’t like Seventeen worked 365 days a year, but Wonwoo definitely experienced enough sleepless nights, jam packed schedules, and unpleasant work in his twenties. Meanwhile his peers were in the height of youth, partying and meeting new people during college. He couldn’t have waved at someone without it being photographed. Wonwoo’s relatively normal life post stardom heydays is kind of like a vacation, time for him to relax and enjoy himself before be has to stress about what he’s going to spend ten, twenty years of his life doing.

So whenever Bohyeok starts to get on his case, usually as soon as Wonwoo’s put down his spoon, Wonwoo gives Hyeyeon a meaningful look and she provides an excuse to escape.

Some days they go for a walk. There’s a playground in the middle of the apartment complex and sometimes Hyeyeon wants to climb on that, but other times they comb the streets and find fun things to do in the area. If it rains, their time is dedicated to books indoors. Recently, Hyeyeon’s been big on audiobooks instead of having Wonwoo read to her because it’s more **independent** (is it really? Not that Wonwoo is going to argue the point), and Wonwoo accommodates that by bring his own reading (he uses an app sometimes, but a nostalgic part of him clings to the dwindling prevalence of printed works and he’s thrilled his niece shares this interest. Apparently even Mingyu’s caught on) and they’ll sit together silently.

Despite being excited by a new book earlier today, Hyeyeon gets distracted by the prospect of playing with her neighborhood friends. Wonwoo embraces this rare designated sunshine time by scouting out the only bench currently in the shade. He keeps an eye on her while she runs around, trying to keep vigilant about potential hazards, but also trusts her not to try anything too crazy, like jump off a swing.

After an hour or so, he takes Hyeyeon by the hand, leading her back up to her parents’ home for a nap.

“You wanna stay for dinner?” Bohyeok asks, once the little princess is asleep.

Sometimes bumming two free meals is exactly how Wonwoo wants to spend his Saturday. It provides the added bonus of giving Bohyeok and Jooyeon some breathing room so they can be slightly less hyper-attentive to their daughter, even if they’re in the same space. Wonwoo looks down at his phone to check the time and notices a message notification from one Moon Joonhwi. He decides this is not one of those Saturdays.

“Maybe next time,” Wonwoo suggests.

“Are you smiling at your phone?”

Wonwoo is not, as he’s already pocketed it.

“Did you meet a new girl?”

Wonwoo snorts and gives Bohyeok a shove. Annoying little brothers will always be annoying little brothers. “It’s a man, and I’ve known him for years.”

“The details are unimportant. I thought your only family for the rest of your life was gonna be us and your gaming friends. Bring Hyeyeon another uncle home soon, huh?”

He doesn’t have a reply to that other than a roll of his eyes.

 

 

*

 

 

The message from Junhui reads, _Wonwoo!! Are you free tomorrow_?

Wonwoo dictates his answer to his electric-powered car. _I think so_ and, _Probably just finishing uni homework_.

One right turn after he’s sent off the reply, the AI assistant announces he has a call and asks if he would like to pick up. He accepts, and Junhui’s voice comes percolating out of the speakers.

“Do you have a lot to do? Or morning class on Monday?”

“Hi Junnie. Not really. My first lecture of the week isn’t until the afternoon,” he says, taking a look in the rearview before merging into the middle lane.

“Hi, hi! How do you feel about dinner tomorrow then? Since we didn’t really get to catch up much yesterday. I don’t have to be on site after lunch.”

Two dinners in a week? Bohyeok wouldn’t let him live it down. The response Wonwoo’s brain circuitry generates in response to the prospect of dinner with Junhui, however, is very different from the one conjured for dinner with Minghao. He doesn’t find himself trying to come up with excuses not to go. Rather, there’s something akin to excitement, and without consciously meaning to, he’s sat up straighter in the seat of his car. It’s different from coffee with Mingyu too. That seems somehow more mundane, like visits from Seokmin, internet chats with Jihoon, drinks with Soonyoung and Seungcheol-hyung.

“Wonwoo-yah?”

“That sounds good. Do you want to go to—” He cuts himself off. He’d been about to name an old Sichuanese place Junhui used to like, but realized he doesn’t know if the place is still there. “What do you want to eat?” he corrects.

“Korean food.” Junhui laughs. “Back in Korea, Korean food, definitely. It’s hard not to miss it.”

Wonwoo turns on his blinker to make a right. “Shall I give you a few suggestions and you can decide?”

“Yeah! Why don’t you text them over. I think I gotta go.”

“You could have just texted in the first place.”

“I’m bad at spelling! And the dictation method always catches me mispronouncing things…Anyway, I really have to go now, so see you tomorrow!!! It’s a date!”

“Mm.”

A date. Wonwoo sighs, palms the wheel.

Certified Junhui. These kind of details settled to the back of Wonwoo’s mind in the past few years, but suddenly confronted with this type of behavior, the past comes surfacing rapidly. Smooth, flirty lines that sounded throwaway, but too deliberate to be casual. He’s never known what to make of them. Even in their days of greatest familiarity with each other, it was a point Wonwoo didn’t know how to respond to, and often simply didn’t.

So here's the deal.

One tiny truth that has been Wonwoo’s lived reality for the majority of the past fifteen years is this: if Junhui had really asked him on a date, he would not have declined.

Which is not to say that he’s been harboring a long-standing crush for him or pent up unconfessed feelings. Wonwoo doesn't normally think in terms of feelings. But too often it seemed like Junhui had come close to doing the deed, so to speak, and Wonwoo, of course, would inevitably reflect on the situation. But each time, shortly afterward, Junhui would pull away so abruptly and so thoroughly that Wonwoo sometimes wondered if he’d gotten the wrong idea.

He’s pretty sure he hadn’t.

He’s also pretty sure these instances were the brick and mortar from which the wall between the two of them was constructed.

Mind muddled, Wonwoo returns home having previously planned to do some work, finally, but not unlike every other instance in which he’d scheduled that so far this week, he ends up distracted. Seongheon goads him online, and then he and Jihoon shittalk him for not being around recently, and Wonwoo survives off little more than instant noodles while they alternate between using ‘play to lose’ and ‘play to win’ as excuses to keep going all night.

The fourteen year old loser who starts yelling all kinds of slurs at both teammates _and_ opponents is perhaps the only damper on what is otherwise an altogether decent day.

 

 

*

 

 

At around seven in the evening the next day, Wonwoo arrives at the agreed upon restaurant specializing in light and milky bone broth stews with his economics textbook in tow. He’d read a bit on the subway ride over, choosing to forego the convenience of a car in consideration of the hassle of driving, parking, and traffic.

Junhui is (characteristically) apologetic at this, profusely telling Wonwoo that they could reschedule if he was busy.

“I just didn’t want to be bored,” Wonwoo explains, after they’ve ordered using the AI system. Robo-waiters scurry across the floor with food and drinks. He watches them with muted interest. “College has not been particularly stressful for me.”

“I didn’t even know you’d enrolled in school,” Junhui says. “What are you studying?”

“I’m just taking a few courses based on whatever piques my interest,” Wonwoo says. What he means is he doesn’t really know what he wants to do, so picking and choosing select classes is his only option.

Junhui hums and leans back in his seat. “I guess I thought you wanted to take over your dad’s business.”

With the courses Wonwoo is taking, that’s one of the options. But he doesn’t know if he wants to commit to it. “After spending so much time on music and performing, isn’t it weird to suddenly change gears?”

“Is it?” Junhui ponders this for a moment. “I record songs for my shows sometimes, but these days I mostly act. But I guess, even though the details are different, my work hasn’t changed all that much.”

He’s still in the public eye. Wonwoo, only on rare occasions. Possibly never if he ran off to become an accountant. 

Even though it was his job, being an idol felt, in some ways, more like a game than work. Of course there were meaningful ways in which that life was not a game and affected him significantly, but most of the time what he had been doing was fun. And Wonwoo was loathe to switch professions to something that felt like a drag after that kind of experience.

“There’s also the time sink. We spent so many years harnessing a certain set of skills and to let all that go to waste…”

Some of the others, Jihoon and Soonyoung for sure, Seokmin, Seungkwan, Channie...they still performed. Sure Wonwoo belted ballads in the shower sometimes, but mostly the things he wrote were really poems. Potentially useable as song lyrics, but without music in backing, they really were just written words. For whatever reason, he didn’t see himself using those notebooks for a career...

“I think I know what you mean. But you know...not that long ago one of my fans wrote me a letter. She was a fan since we debuted, can you imagine?” Junhui shakes his head. “Back then she was in engineering, but then she decided to apply to medical school. And after some years as a doctor, she’s now going back to school to study law. And even though each of those thing is really different from the other, I think what you learn at every moment can help you with the things you do in the future.”

Wonwoo takes a moment to think about this while the food arrives. The soups are served piping hot, with neat rows of side-dishes, and he can see Junhui’s eyes going wide. Junhui has a special look he gives to food. Food, his one true love.

“This looks delicious!” Junhui announces.

He looks up at Wonwoo, and Wonwoo swallows. He thinks that Junhui used to, on occasion, give him that special look as well, and this is a reminder of that. Wonwoo nods back in response and passes him a pair of chopsticks. He watches Junhui’s eyes go crinkly and fond.

“Anyway, I think this is how I look at life. You should do something you like. And if there’s something you don’t like, don’t do it!”

Not liking where the conversation is going, Wonwoo changes subjects entirely. “Why didn’t you keep in touch?”

“Ah,” Junhui gives a panicked little flail, “It’s not because I don’t like you! I definitely like you, Wonwoo! Um, I mean!” Upon saying this, he gets an even more panicked look in his eyes, flapping his hands uselessly while still holding onto his chopsticks.

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow.

Then, Junhui suddenly takes on a very accusatory tone. “How come _you_ didn’t keep in touch?” He leans forward, frowning.

“I did. Other than the period when I was disconnected from the world, I wished you happy birthday every year and at most you’d send a smiley face back. Sometimes you read the message without replying.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Junhui says sadly. “I just...it’s hard to compose messages! And I would spend some time thinking about it and then maybe forget and then come back to it and it’d be a week or two later and feel weird to reply…”

Although that sounds mostly true, it also seems like an excuse. If you really want to say something to someone, the timing doesn’t really matter, or you find other ways. And in that sense it’s also true that Wonwoo could have tried harder to contact Junhui. But they had left off on a weird note, and…

“I’ll make it up to you! I promise!” Junhui says, with confidence.

And with a toothy grin like that, how could anyone do anything but believe him fully?

 

 

*

 

 

After dinner, Junhui suggests drinks, which Wonwoo turns down in consideration of it being a Sunday night. His counteroffer is to ask Junhui if he wants to see his home, which receives enthusiastic agreement.

Having spent the meal hearing from Junhui about all his recent filming project for some sort of mystery or crime movie for which Junhui was somewhat miffed he didn’t get the part of the villain, Wonwoo worries that by the time they reach his place, uncomfortable silence and unfamiliarity will bear down on them. However, Junhui has more sense of wonder in him at age 31 than most people do at age 13, and the list of things he’s noticed has changed in Korea is long enough to spawn three separate conversations about food, how various other members are doing, and housing prices across East Asia.

Junhui, also like in the past, can’t sit still. He flutters to and fro, examining Wonwoo’s minimal furnishings and decor with more excitement than Wonwoo thinks they’re due.

“This one…I recognize your brother, and you obviously…is this his family?” Junhui’s picked up a photo frame. The screen can technically cycle through a series of digital images, but after putting in the one family picture, Wonwoo’s never added any more. Every once in a while Wonwoo wonders if he should add a photo of the members, but then forgets about it before he’s had a chance to think any longer on the subject.

“That’s right. His wife and kid. She’s turning five this year,” Wonwoo says, leaning back into his own couch cushions.

“She’s adorable,” Junhui coos, “it’s the good genetics. Even her mum is beautiful.”

Wonwoo replies evenly, “Are you saying you think I’m naturally good looking?”

“Yeah,” Junhui says. He turns around, cheeky grin in place, but once they make eye contact he gets flustered and loses some of that blustery flirt angle. Interestingly, even that shtick hasn’t changed.

Actually, Wonwoo thought Junhui contained a significant amount of self-assuredness even in his twenties, but there were times when his insecurities translated into using flirting as a bluff to repel other people. He wonders if this is really because Junhui hasn’t changed in that time or if they slip into old roles around people from the past.

“Glad you’ve noticed.”

“It’d be hard not to,” Junhui says quietly, before jumping onto the next item that catches his interest.

For the most part, the trinkets in his condo are gifts from friends and family. The only piece that he had bought himself was purchased on a whim. A telescope with mount and tripod, mostly for display, but also functional enough to take out onto the balcony on rare clear nights to look out into the night sky. It’s hard to see much with the light pollution of the city, and the increasingly poorer air quality in Seoul. But after Junhui starts bouncing on his toes, it’d be like stepping on a baby kitten to not at least try it out.

They get a good look at the moon at least. Junhui swivels the telescope around, looking for anything bright and oohing and ahhing appropriately.

“Here, Wonwoo, you look too!”

Wonwoo steps toward him, bends down, and tries to find the Pleiades, because that’s the sort of humor he likes, and he thinks Junhui might find it interesting too. Once he’s locked the position, he gestures to Junhui to take his place again. “See if you can find the cluster. That’s the group of stars Pledis was named after. I’ll show you Mars in a second.”

Though a very tiny thing, Junhui is thoroughly impressed by this demonstration of the night sky, and tells Wonwoo so. “You always were the smartest one of us,” Junhui says.

They’re standing close, a natural result of crowding around one eyepiece together, close enough that their hands are brushing, and Wonwoo could loop their pinkies together if he wanted to. He kind of does want to. Junhui looks more handsome now than ever, having grown into his face and body further, filled out his broad shoulders some more. His face is one that some might want to avert their eyes at, too bright to view so directly, but to others, like Wonwoo, it’s the kind that you want to take in for as long as possible, without blinking. Now, with Junhui looking straight up into the sky, Wonwoo has a chance to take in his profile without him noticing.

“If I pretend, I can imagine that’s a shooting star,” Junhui hums.

Wonwoo turns his head to look up as well. “That’s a plane.”

“I know! I just mean, well, you have to use your imagination.”

“If it were a shooting star, which it’s not, what would you wish for?”

“I don’t know,” Junhui says. He considers this for a moment. “The health and happiness of everyone I love, maybe. I don’t have anything pressing I want, I don’t think. I’m well fed, I have a great job, good friends, this lovely view…”

He turns to look at Wonwoo with a smile and startles slightly, maybe also noticing their proximity. “ _This_ view?” Wonwoo prompts.

“Yeah,” Junhui mumbles, not looking away.

How many times have they been here before. How many times have they stood like this, pressed against each other everywhere except where it counts. This familiar position again, hearts trembling, would the outcome be any different?

“Just to be clear,” Wonwoo starts, at the same time that Junhui says, “Can…?”

They both stop themselves, waiting for the other to continue, but no one says anything.

And then slowly, eyes open and watching Junhui to gauge for a reaction every millimeter of the way, Wonwoo leans forward until their mouths are touching.

Junhui kisses back.

This kiss, Wonwoo thinks, has been twenty years coming.

Okay, it’s closer to fifteen years, but the point, _the point_ , actually, whatever it is, Wonwoo loses track of it because Junhui parts his lips and the brush of his tongue against Wonwoo’s functions the same as a memory wipe.

 

 

*

 

 

The words, _are you going to run away on me again_ sit on the tip of Wonwoo’s tongue. He doesn’t say them, but he wants to ask the question. The answer isn’t so clear to him, unlike when Junhui had shivered in Wonwoo’s embrace on the balcony, and Wonwoo didn’t have to ask to know he was cold. They said that a person's eyes were the windows into their soul, and in Junhui's deep brown depths Wonwoo could see fire, ice, space, stars, too many layers to uncover. And fear.

Instead, Wonwoo asks, “Are you okay?” Like this, in Wonwoo’s bed, shirts off, Wonwoo thinks it’s clear what he wants. But he also thinks that it’s not too late for them to stop, if Junhui doesn’t want it. There are some things Wonwoo can just tell, but he’s never quite known what Junhui wanted.

Junhui nods, lacking some of his usual vivacity. Again, Wonwoo can’t determine if that’s shyness or reluctance.

“Is _this_ okay?” he clarifies.

Junhui closes his eyes and bites his lip. His fingers slide from Wonwoo’s neck to his shoulders down to his hands, where he grips tightly and pulls Wonwoo forward. “Please,” Junhui whispers.

Wonwoo rocks languidly into him for what feels like hours. He’s in no hurry, wants to savor Junhui’s tiny little moans. He takes his time touching every inch of Junhui's body that he can reach, leaves tiny butterfly kisses on his forehead, over his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, the tip of his nose, his lips. Junhui’s come twice before Wonwoo finally lets himself find release, in that moment seeing stars.

 

 

*

 

 

Wonwoo dreams they’re in a hotel. It’s the same hotel he always remembers, sometimes dreams of, in Japan, one of the last days the final time they’d toured there. Warm beiges and burgundies, set with rectangular faucets and toiletries. All clean, very clean, and brightly lit by the vanity lights from the mirror.

He doesn’t know how many times he’s re-lived this memory or dreamt this dream.

The thing is, this is not the only place it’s happened. This is not the only time it’s happened. But for some reason, in his memories, this is the point Wonwoo remembers, the point after which nothing is ever the same. This is the moment that effectively summarizes all other moments, this is the culmination of a decade not knowing where they stand.

What is this?

Wonwoo’s dream starts in the middle of it. There’s steam in the bathroom from their two consecutive showers, a fan whirs overhead. Wonwoo is wearing a pair of thin pyjama bottoms, brushing his teeth in front of the sink. In today’s rendition of the dream, Junhui is, for whatever reason, a mermaid. He comes out of the shower wrapped in a fluffy white towel, standing on his tail fins like they’re feet.

“Couldn’t resist getting a look at me, huh?” Mermaid-Junhui teases. In reality Junhui had said these words too, true to Wonwoo’s memory.

“Of course not,” Wonwoo says around a mouthful of toothpaste. He spits into the sink, and when he looks up into the mirror, Junhui’s arm is around Wonwoo’s chest, reaching toward the hairdryer on Wonwoo’s other side.

There had been no need to stand in such close proximity; the bathroom was spacious, the counter was spacious, the cord was long, Junhui could have stood on the other side. Yet neither of them moved, and neither of them spoke, the noise of the dryer joining that of the fan while stray droplets from Junhui’s hair flew and splashed onto Wonwoo’s skin. He didn’t even flinch, simply continued over his lower teeth, methodically cleaning his mouth.

Then the noise of the dryer turned off, Wonwoo rinses his mouth out, and the sound of the fan is muted in comparison. Junhui’s hair is still damp, from the waist down he’s a fish, and the flush in his face is a deep red from the heat and the steam.

Wonwoo turns away from the mirror and looks Junhui in the eye. This is the benefit of them being the same height, that there’s never any looking up or down, leaning up or down. Equals, always.

Junhui doesn’t say anything. He’s still holding onto the dryer, even though it’s turned off now, but he seems to have forgotten about it while his focus went to staring at Wonwoo’s mouth.

“There’s toothpaste here,” Junhui says, using his free hand to wipe at the corner of Wonwoo’s mouth.

His eyes are dark. Wonwoo can only imagine that they match his own. They blink, and that’s the only notice Wonwoo gets before the hairdryer in Junhui’s hand clatters to the floor, hitting the tiles and bouncing back up due to the cord attaching it to the wall hook. When he looks up, Junhui is gone. In the memory of the real events, for the rest of the tour, Junhui sits in the furthest seat possible from Wonwoo, but smiles as if nothing is wrong during the concerts.

In the dream, Wonwoo hears a rustle, and then he’s waking up.

He wakes up.

He wakes up to Junhui slipping out of bed.

The words _are you going to run away on me again_ fill his mind. Again, he says something different. “What are you doing?” Wonwoo asks simply. It’s dark in his room, cool blues, messy, a stark contrast from the hotel bathroom. 

Junhui jumps. He whips his head around to look at Wonwoo with too much energy for this early in the morning, the sleep still clouding Wonwoo’s consciousness, the world pitch black outside.

“I, uh, have filming,” Junhui mumbles, sounding very much like he’s using pieces of the truth as an excuse again.

“Don’t,” Wonwoo whispers, closing his eyes again and trying to fight off the sleep.

“Don’t go to work?” Junhui asks.

“Don’t run away.”

Junhui stops moving.

His figure seems to shrink in the dark.

“Last night.. Last night shouldn’t have happened. Can you imagine how the other members would react if they knew?”

“If they would react badly then fuck them. Who cares what—” Wonwoo breaks off because that’s not the important thing right now. He forces himself to sit up, because Junhui is standing, back still turned to him.

He doesn’t have the energy to run after him. It’s not because it’s ass o’clock in the morning.

“Jun-ah, if you run away, don’t bother coming back. I’m tired of it. You run away for a few days, and then ask if I want to get lunch. Ignore me some more, then come back to practice together. You ran away to _another country_ , didn’t contact me once, and then come back _years_ later as if each moment in time that we spent apart didn’t exist. I can’t do it anymore. I’m sick of waiting around.”

Wonwoo really tells himself that he hasn’t been waiting. And that’s true in the sense that he hasn’t actively been waiting. But he thinks, amongst all the relationships he’s had in the past ten years, his heart has sort of been holding out for this option. It wasn’t supposed to end in a single night of sex, but a bang was a better finish than a whimper, and maybe Bohyeok was right, maybe he should settle down.

Junhui hasn’t moved any further though.

With a sigh, Wonwoo swings himself out of bed, pads over to where Junhui is standing, face buried in his own hands. He’s crying, Wonwoo thinks.

Not quite understanding how it happens, Wonwoo ends up hugging Junhui while Junhui cries into his shoulder, somehow comforting him even though he’s pretty sure he’s the one who just cut his chest open with his bare hands and left his heart out on a platter.

“I’m sorry,” Junhui hiccoughs, “I’m really…I have to…Wonwoo-yah, I’m…”

Wonwoo sighs again. “We have to talk before you leave again. Go to your filming. You have my number, just don’t forget to message me for three years again this time.”

 

 

*

 

 

The clouds from the night before begin to weep late Monday morning, unleashing a torrent of pent up tears and dousing pedestrians with a heavier than expected rain shower. The voice of Wonwoo’s literature professor flashes through his mind, telling him _pathetic fallacy_. The combination of the dreariness of the weather and Wonwoo’s own low spirits render it nearly impossible to finish the last problem set and readings from the week prior, but he somehow manages to roll into class on time.

Not ten minutes into the lecture, Wonwoo receives a message from Bohyeok, followed by two more in quick succession. _Can you pick Hyeyeon up from daycare this afternoon?_  
_Please_  
_If you can_

Wonwoo almost doesn’t read them, mostly when he gets notifications in class he just turns his phone off. He’s a non-traditional student pursuing his first undergraduate degree, not a bratty kid who can’t focus long enough to pay attention for a whole class. But he spots Hyeyeon’s name and double checks no one’s looking before shooting back, _After I finish class at 4_.

During break, when Wonwoo checks his phone again, Bohyeok’s left him an address (as if Wonwoo doesn’t remember where it is) and numerous thanks, mentioning that something came up at work for both him and Jooyeon but they’d be over to get her for dinner. Wonwoo also has a message from Junhui asking if he’s free later in the evening.

 _I’m babysitting my niece,_ he texts.

 _Oh,_ Junhui replies.

 _That doesn’t mean you can’t come over for dinner tho,_ Wonwoo sends out. Almost immediately, another message from Junhui arrives.

_Can I meat her?_

_*meet_  
_I think so, but let me ask her first_

_I already told you I can’t spell…_

 

 

*

 

 

Hyeyeon starts bouncing off the wall when she sees Wonwoo arrive to pick her up at the child care centre late afternoon. She can’t stop shrieking, and then shrieking but at a quieter level when she gets shushed, as Wonwoo presents his ID to explain the situation. He’s on the list of alternate contacts for people who can pick Hyeyeon up, and one of the daycare staff knows him, but he’s actually glad for the formalities, even if it seems a hassle. When Wonwoo reaches a hand out to take her home, she bolts toward him, and then doesn’t stop running until they’re outside.

“Are you always this excited to get picked up?” Wonwoo asks.

Hyeyeon nods. “Yeah! I wanna go home and eat snacks. Also I’m happy to see uncle!”

“Okay,” Wonwoo agrees. He can arrange snacks. “Do you think you’d want to see another uncle. Other than me. Uncle Wonwoo’s friend, Uncle Jun.”

“More uncles?!” Hyeyeon pauses, seems to give this some deep thought. “Is he nice? Will he give me snacks too…?”

“Maybe. If you’re good.”

She bounces on her toes at the sound of that. “Okay! I’ll be good. I’m always super good!”

Which means when Junhui arrives at Wonwoo’s condo with a bag of fruit, gummy candies, cookies, crackers, and cheese, Hyeyeon totally loves him.

Junhui is also predictably thrilled at being able to interact with a kid. He carries her on his shoulders for a bit, cuts up apple slices for her, starts playing piano on a phone app slowly enough so she can learn too. Wonwoo, trying to look productive, pulls out his laptop about ten minutes in, when Junhui looked like he clearly had everything handled, and manages to hammer out part of an outline in preparation for the essay in literature due in two weeks. He’s not expecting Junhui and Hyeyeon’s honeymoon period to end abruptly, or to have Hyeyeon jumping into his lap without warning.

“What’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks, sliding his laptop out of potential harm’s way while patting Hyeyeon’s back and giving Junhui a confused look.

Junhui seems just as bewildered, and when Hyeyeon buries her face in Wonwoo’s shoulder, her words get muffled.

“Say that again?”

“Uncle Jun is really nice. Don’t make him leave,” she whispers, loud enough that anyway in the whole house could hear.

“What?”

“He said he couldn’t stay for long, but I don’t want him to go…”

Wonwoo starts to laugh. “Uncle Wonwoo won’t make Uncle Jun do anything he doesn’t want to do,” he says meaningfully.

“Okay…Is it reading time now?”

They read for a bit before Hyeyeon’s fast asleep, the excitement of the day having worn her out.

“She’s too cute,” Junhui says affectionately. “If ever you’re in search of babysitting services…”

“I’ll let Bohyeok know there’s another offer. She’s really something, huh?” Wonwoo down at his niece, reminiscing. “Bohyeok totally changed after he met Jooyeon.” He pauses, and delicately cups Hyeyeon’s ears, even if she is sleeping. Wonwoo whispers, “Our parents didn’t really approve of her,” before removing his hands. “Even though she’s so capable, they wanted someone who would act as a housewife for him and she was so driven by her career. But he was totally smitten, so in the end they still got married.”

“And she kept her job?”

“Yeah. To tell you the truth, I think Bohyeok might have been looking for a housewife type at first too, but things happened. Later, I mean after they'd been together for years and had Hyeyeon, he told me that he’s started to think about things differently. Like, if someone had said that Hyeyeon wasn’t the greatest girl in the world because she wanted to have a job, he’d punch their teeth out. So his whole world perspective has changed. He’s a lot more receptive to different opinions and coming to his own conclusions.”

“Oh,” Junhui says. And then, as if in slow motion, Junhui leans his head against Wonwoo’s shoulder, so that the three of them are curled together. And Wonwoo, not wanting Junhui to pull away any time soon, rests his cheek against the top of Junhui’s head.

They nap for what feels like only a few seconds before the doorbell sounds, and Junhui is leaping up to his feet. Hyeyeon rubs at her eyes, startled by the noise but not nearly as spurred into action, and Wonwoo lifts her up, holding her at his hip while he pads off to the door to hand off his brother’s child back to him.

Bohyeok sheepishly apologies. “I know that was really last minute.”

“Things happen.” Wonwoo shrugs. “I was happy to have her.”

“And I got to meet Uncle Jun,” Hyeyeon mumbles sleepily into her father’s neck.

“Uncle Jun?” Bohyeok raises an eyebrow. “You really did bring her—”

“— **Bye** ,” Wonwoo says forcefully, shutting the door closed.

 

 

*

 

 

“Now the adults can talk,” Wonwoo says, joining Junhui on the couch again.

“I don’t know if I want to be an adult.”

Wonwoo frowns. “You’re not the only one.”

No one really wants to ‘grow up’. And certainly, even though Wonwoo’s not a vicenarian anymore, he doesn’t really ever feel like he’s matured. Time just keeps passing, not caring for a moment whether you’re hanging onto its rollercoaster ride, or left behind. Something concrete he’s gained, however, is experience. And one set of those experiences is years with Junhui unwilling to be forthcoming when it comes to matters close to the chest.

“Come here,” he says.

“What? I’m right here already.”

“No, I mean,” and Wonwoo stops speaking to pull Junhui forward into a hug. The sofa, a modern looking three-seater, only has an arm on one side, therefore easily accommodating two 6’ men sprawled one on top of the other. Wonwoo wraps his arms around Junhui’s waist. “There, now you can pretend I’m not here and just talk.”

“I obviously still know you’re here,” Junhui says grumpily. “And anyway I wanted to apologize to you. I’m sorry I had to leave earlier. But more than that I’m sorry about how much I hurt you. I tried so hard to avoid my own pain that I didn’t even notice how much I was inflicting on you.”

Wonwoo rubs slow circles on Junhui’s back. "Just tell me everything, Jun-ah. No more running.”

After a long time, during which Junhui takes several deep, shaky breaths, Junhui tells him these secrets like he’s freeing small injured animals. Softly, carefully, worried that he’ll make things worse. “I think I liked you for a long time. But I was scared that you would notice. I didn’t think you felt the same, I thought you were just teasing, the same way I was, you know, like that.”

A pause.

“I can’t believe you didn’t push me away,” Junhui says, like it’s a miracle Wonwoo didn’t. “I always thought you were going to push me away.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know. But I always thought…” Junhui trails off. He buries his face in Wonwoo’s chest, hugging back. “We’re not supposed to…I mean…It’s just, we’re supposed to be straight.”

Even if you pretended the night before hadn’t happened, Wonwoo thinks that’s a bit of a stretch. A man who knew the sent of another man’s cologne intimately enough to notice he’d changed it three years later is definitely one hundred percent straight. A man who could remember dozens of times in his life when he'd stood in the shower thinking about his relationship with another man and what that meant is definitely unquestionably straight. Of course.

He loses the sarcasm when Junhui almost starts crying.

“Every time I go home, my mother asks me when I’m going to start my family. When I’m going to give her grandkids. I can’t, Wonwon, I can’t. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say to her.”

This last secret, it takes flight like a baby bird, and crash lands onto Wonwoo. Something clicks then.

After Bohyeok married Jooyeon, a lot of things changed in their family. Thanksgiving and lunar new year were still celebrated at their parents, but the family slowly became distant in a way they weren’t before. After Hyeyeon, Wonwoo realized how much little things can really influence a child’s world. He wanted to teach her to be a good person, to watch her grow up strong and happy and healthy. He was sure Jooyeon and Bohyeok were the same. And in some ways, that meant leaving her with Wonwoo just as often, if not more, as with her grandparents. Wonwoo knows that telling his parents his past partners have included both men and women is certainly not an option. He wouldn’t even suggest something like that to Seongheon or Jihoon, two of his closest friends.

This morning, when Wonwoo had gotten a look at Junhui’s expression and seen fear, it was a fear like the world around you could suddenly go up in flames, that everything you held dear could disappear.

“Was it real to you?” Wonwoo asks. He quickly realizes that’ll sound like a non-sequitur to Junhui, so he amends, “I mean, the years when we…we weren’t but, uh.”

“We could have been,” Junhui says quietly. “On my side anyway.”

“Good,” Wonwoo says. “Because mine too.”

 

 

*

 

 

Wonwoo has not planned far ahead in the future. He’s never thought to himself that he wanted to marry Junhui, and after all of their history, he thinks that ship might be sailed forever. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want Junhui to find a good husband, one he can bring home to his mother, one his mother will accept, maybe an adopted child if that’s what they both want.

He tells Jun this, later that night. They talk for four hours, Junhui chokes up three separate times (okay, Wonwoo also nearly cries a couple times but the point is neither of them actually shed tears), and by the end of it, the air between them is clear and crisp and too good to spoil with things like sex or romance, which is a quite astonishing conclusion to arrive at 24 hours after they’d just been rolling around in bed together. When you look back at their whole past though, it’s the only logical ending, and one that they both agree on.

Tuesday is Junhui’s last full day in Korea for this particular film. He spends most of the time on set, and then at dinner time, a bunch of them get together. It’s an excuse, now that everyone’s lives are separate, to meet up. Some of the people who show up are idols Wonwoo has never spoken to in the past. Junhui nearly knocks over an entire pot of hot soup when Jihoon decides to grant them his physical presence, and the Seventeen members who are there loosely joke about a reunion album after Chan finishes up in the army.

Wonwoo drives Junhui to the airport the morning after. Junhui's manager takes his luggage in the designated corporate vehicle, leaving Junhui free to chatter the whole car ride over. He’s still dreading his mom’s usual wife-and-kids spiel. That’s okay, Wonwoo thinks. Junhui hadn’t come to Korea expecting to have his sexuality crisis uncovered or solved. That was a surprise that might not have happened if Wonwoo hadn’t let Mingyu drag him to dinner, if they didn’t end up in the bathroom at the same time, if their schedules hadn’t lined up. Things would take time. Hopefully not decades of it.

“You know, Wonwoo, you could look into teaching. You like kids, if Hyeyeon is anything to go by, and you spent so much time during our active years trying to teach me about everything, even if it was something I already knew.”

“Are you saying I nag?”

“Yeah.” Junhui grins. “But I think that’s a good thing for teachers. And if you teach little kids, they won’t even know you’re a celebrity. They’ll probably think you’re lying if you tell them you’re famous.”

Wonwoo will remember that.

It doesn’t germinate until another ten years later, after Seventeen’s reunion albums and concerts, after some of the others start getting married and having kids of their own. Hyeyeon’s taken up her father’s mantle in nagging Wonwoo to settle down. But it’s true. Words do linger in our minds.

(So hurry up and tell me)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Still Lonely.
> 
> For reference for readers who are unfamiliar with Seventeen, Wonwoo is a Cancer and Junhui is a Gemini. 
> 
> Thanks to the mods for having patience with me and especially to our team mod for putting up with me changing ideas three times (that she knows of). Shout out to my tea loving team, and big love to my favorite sapphysaur for listening to me scream from beginning to end of this process and still cheering me along every step of the way *holds your hand forever*.


End file.
